


Xanlow Week Prompts

by DorkPatroller (Lilmissprine)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Chrom!Inigo, Cute things, M/M, Ship Week, Some angst, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilmissprine/pseuds/DorkPatroller
Summary: A series of prompts which are tied together for Xanlow Week!





	1. Dance

Part 1: _Dance_

Inigo closed his eyes and tilted his head so it leaned directly against the cool glass of the window. From his spot in the window seat he had a beautiful view of Ylisstol, and specifically of the garden and courtyard that was attached to the castle. More importantly he could surround himself in the pounding sound of rain and wind. It was usually sunny and bright in Ylisstol but like anywhere rain came now and then to keep it the bright and green place it was meant to be. This was the first time it had rained this hard since he had returned from Nohr.

Listening to the rain with his eyes shut he could almost pretend he was still there. He could imagine the cloudy skies and the cold stone walls of Castle Krakenburg. He could remember the sound of his own boots when he took steps and he could remember the more metallic, armored steps of his liege. Of course, more vividly than anything, he could remember saying goodbye. Well… not goodbye. Inigo had been far too afraid of the words goodbye to really say them. He remembered instead the day _before_ goodbye.

Prince Xander had been closer than normal. Inigo couldn’t for his life remember what conversation they were having, what the reason was that the prince was so close to him, but… he was very close. He had rested his hand on Inigo’s shoulder and stared down into his eyes and time stood still when he leaned closer. Inigo could hear his breath. Their faces were close enough that Xander dipped his nose against Inigo’s, and just before their lips touched… there was a knock at the door and they jumped a whole foot apart.

Inigo knew he spent the entire rest of that day painted with a blush and afraid of his own future.

When he left Nohr behind he left those feelings unresolved. He couldn’t stay. He had to go home, with Owain and Severa. He needed to go home. He needed to see his mother and his sister and his father. Still… not a day went by that he didn’t think about how close their lips had been, or what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. Not a day went by that he didn’t wonder if Xander had been in love with him, the same way Inigo had so dearly loved his liege. Still… he couldn’t have waited around to find out. Inigo left Nohr the day after that encounter and he knew that was the way it had to be, because if Xander had told him he cared for him, or told him he loved him… Inigo wasn’t sure if he could have left.

When they returned to Ylisse Owain and Severa slipped back into their previous lives and previous names without even a hiccup, for the most part. They were unchanged, it seemed. Inigo could not fall back into his old life so easily. When he first arrived Olivia wrapped him up in her arms and kissed his cheek and told him she was proud of him, that she loved him, and… he thought he had been happy. He held her close and then he embraced Lucina and his father, and he thought his family would fix the weight in his chest.

It only took a few weeks for it to sink in that he was a broken man, now. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, or when exactly, but his heart was no longer in Ylisse. He had left part of it behind in Nohr. Once upon a time he had longed for the day when people would call him by his name again, for the day the world would know him as Inigo, Prince of Ylisse, again. Lately he thought his heart only ached to be called another name. Lately he dreamed of a prince (or was he a king, by now?) with golden curls and eyes like red wine, who called him Laslow.

His mother asked him to tell her all about his journey. Lucina sat beside him as well, listened to him weave a tale of dragons and men and monsters, but when he came to the end of the war, when he came to the part of the story where he had to leave… well he hesitated, and his hands grew clammy, and words rang in his head.

_It is not your company I require. Only that you continue to draw breath._

When Inigo left it was the day after Xander nearly kissed him and the only thing he left behind was a letter in scribbled handwriting that wished him the very best of life. A letter that explained nothing of who he was, or where he was going, but was signed ‘ _with all my love, Laslow’_ and only promised that he would never forget.

_Would you be able to forgive me for abandoning you?_

Inigo often wondered, as the days passed by, if Xander had truly forgiven him as he said he would. He wondered if Xander even thought of him, or saw him as just another piece of a distant past. Inigo had been in love, and he knew that to be true. He loved that prince more than he loved anyone else in his life, and only more now that they were apart. He wondered every day if Xander loved him, too. Or if he had, at some point. Would he have forgiven Inigo for breaking his heart?

…

When Inigo asked Gerome to make him a mask it hadn’t been for this. It was not because he was planning to attend a ball. It was because he wanted to go back, and to go unrecognized. It took a long time before he finally made the decision. Six months of dwelling on dreams, and chasing them when he woke in the mornings. Six months of fiddling with a star shaped charm that he pinned to the collar of his shirt until his thumb was calloused. Six months of wondering what it would be like to go back.

When he asked Gerome to make him a mask it was because he didn’t want anyone to know him. It was only a coincidence that the kingdom of Nohr was celebrating something or other with a masquerade ball. Inigo supposed he should have counted his blessings. Trying to get into the castle wearing a mask on an ordinary day may have been difficult. The mask was important. In spite of the fact that he didn’t look the same as he had when he left Nohr, he knew he hadn’t changed that much. (Or, at least, he thought he would have recognized Xander no matter what his hair or eye color, because he was so in love with the shape of his face and the way his eyelashes framed his eyes or the precise curve of his nose.) Inigo’s hair was the rich blue of his father this time, without Anankos to alter it. Not to mention he had his family’s brand in his eye. He supposed he had always envied Owain, for having the brand on his arm. People were sometimes a little jarred or concerned by Inigo’s brand, in his eye. It was… strange, he knew. Getting looks of unease had never helped with his shy nature.

Luckily behind the mask it wasn’t really visible, or at least not easily. Getting back to Nohr had been less of a challenge than expected. Between Henry and Tharja and some unexpected knowledge that Nowi produced on the translocation stones, they were able to reactivate his. Saying goodbye to his family had been the hard part. His mother and father would be fine, of course. They loved him but they weren’t… going to be alone. They already had their own little Lucina toddling around the castle, and he knew that very soon they would meet their baby son. He worried that his sister would be lonely, but… He knew she was strong, and wanted what was best for him. He supposed, of all the ways to part ways with Lucina, this was the best.

So he said goodbye to Ylisse. Forever, he thought. Goodbye to Owain and to Severa, who wished him well and asked them to give their best wishes to their friends in Nohr. He knew it was a risk of course. There was a risk that Xander had moved on—that he was married, that he didn’t ever care for Inigo like that in the first place. That one encounter could have been the result of anything, really. There was a risk that Xander hadn’t forgiven him, that he never would. There was a risk that he wasn’t in need of a retainer, and that he had already filled the position. There was a risk that he had come to Nohr just to be lonely again, but this time without his family or friends.

It was a risk that Inigo knew he was willing to take. Even if he was lonely forever he would be happy knowing he could protect the king of Nohr from danger, and from his fears, and from perhaps even himself. He just… hadn’t particularly planned how he would introduce himself again.

He thought standing in the corner of a ballroom full of people in masks and dresses and fine clothes was a poor start. That wasn’t to say his clothes were horrible. He’d managed to purchase himself some Nohrian styled clothes shortly after arriving back in Nohr. They were remarkably similar to the clothes he once wore, if not a little bit more form fitting and a slightly richer shade. (Closer to _Indigo,_ as if wearing that color would keep him closer to home, or to the memories of his friends.) He thought it was acceptable enough for this occasion, although he certainly wasn’t dressed to impress the way many of the other guests were.

He knew them. He knew so many faces. His feet moved by their own will to guide him into the crowd, and his heart raced faster with each familiar face he passed. These were people he once fought in a war with, people he knew and loved as friends. He worried… because he realized with each one he passed that he could recognize them easily, mask or not. Nothing could hide Arthur’s triumphant grin or Peri’s delicate voice. Nothing could change the way Benny carried himself as a gentle giant.

Inigo supposed he’d wished that his feet had warned him. Maybe he thought it would have been nice for them to let him know they would blindly guide him to stand in front of the king. Maybe if he’d had that warning he could have formulated words or a plan. Maybe if he’d had that warning he would have braced himself for the rush his heart felt when Xander turned around and looked at him over his shoulder.

His mask did nothing to hide who he was and that was probably because it would have been impossible to act like he wasn’t the king anyway. Xander’s mask covered his cheeks and forehead in intricately designed filigree. Black and metal it reminded Inigo of his armor, it suited him perfectly. Simple and yet still regal. Inigo could very clearly see his eyes behind it, could see that they were still the beautiful eyes he remembered.

Beautiful eyes that stared right down into Inigo’s with such an intensity that he had to peel his gaze away. When Inigo asked Gerome for a mask he’d asked for something durable but simple. He didn’t need it to be as fancy as the butterfly mask his sister once wore, or to be special. Just a simple mask. He was given what he asked for (with only moderate protest). His mask was thin, flexible enough to be durable and worn daily. It was leather the same shade as his boots, it wasn’t really suited for a ball like this, not really.

Why was he standing there? He couldn’t have answered the question if he was asked. He had no reason to be standing wordlessly in front of his once-liege. He was supposed to do the opposite of this, after all. His plan had been to learn more about Xander. He wanted to observe him, to find out if he had already filled the position of his retainer, find out if he had taken a spouse. The plan had been just about anything _but_ walk right up to him.

Not to mention Inigo was interrupting. He didn’t know the face of the woman having a conversation with Xander but he knew she was gorgeous and he knew all of the ‘what-if’s. He also knew their conversation had been derailed because the king had turned to look at him and wouldn’t look away.

Inigo couldn’t even think straight over the sound of his inner conscience calling him an idiot. He backed up a few steps and slipped away into the crowd, while he still could. A glance behind him and Xander had turned back to his conversation.

A sigh of relief slipped past Inigo’s lips and he ducked out of the ballroom and onto one of its many balconies. There the moonlight was soothing and the air was cooler, and Inigo leaned heavily on the railing. He was an idiot, he knew. He’d been very willing to take the risk when he was in Ylisse but… what if Xander was already betrothed, or married? When he arrived he’d thought it would be easy to be his retainer and watch over him with no regard to who he loved or married but… there was something very nauseating about that idea now. Inigo was very… in love.

The moon was full that night and maybe that was what made his heart feel so heavy and full, like the moon. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. What was once a calculated risk had turned into something scary. He didn’t want to stand by and watch the man he loved so dearly marry someone else. Was he so selfish that he would refuse to serve his lord, though? He couldn’t bear the idea of him being hurt, no matter what, and yet… he also couldn’t bear the idea of standing to his side and watching him love another.

“It’s a lovely moon.”

Inigo jumped out of his skin, so much that he quickly reached up and readjusted the mask on his nose like he thought it might fall right off. Gerome was nothing if not diligent on the quality, however, and it stayed in place easily. He turned to his side and sure enough the king had joined him, resting one of his hands on the flourished bannister of the balcony as well.

“I suppose it is, milord.” Inigo said without much thought. He said it… but then it sank in that was incorrect.  Xander was the king now. His coronation, Inigo had learned, was the previous month. His lips parted and he sucked in a breath. “I— _Your majesty_ —I apologize, I…”

Xander dismissed the worry with the wave of his hand. “Everyone is still struggling with the new title, myself included.  I do not mind one way or the other, for now.” Inigo nodded his head and looked back out over the balcony. To the fountains, perhaps. Anywhere but Xander, he thought, but realistically all he wanted to do was stare at him. He was so beautiful, so handsome. Inigo had missed him _so much_.

He was aware, within a handful of seconds, however, that Xander was staring at _him_. He cleared his throat and did his best not to care. He reached up and fiddled with the charm on his collar once more, rubbing his gloved thumb over it and hoping it might calm him down the way it always had in the past.

“Is there a reason why you approached me before? You left without a word.”

“Ah, well, I hadn’t realized you were otherwise engaged in conversation, my king, or I would have kept my distance.” It was a pathetic excuse. He hadn’t even really noticed that Xander was speaking with someone until he had already begun his cowardly retreat. Still, he thought it was a good enough excuse, pathetic or not.

“Hm.” Xander hummed it quietly. It was such a little response, but Inigo knew there was weight behind it. He knew from years of watching over Xander as his retainer. There was disappointment behind it.

“Is something wrong? Er—if I may be so bold as to ask.”

“No, nothing. You just… remind me a great deal of someone I once knew.”

“Oh? Well he must have been devilishly handsome.”

“He was gorgeous.” Xander spoke without hesitation on the subject and Inigo’s back involuntarily stiffened. After a few moments he was sure that was all Xander had to say on the matter, but he continued. “There was something very distinct about the way he carried himself. He was light footed and sure of every move he made, and he never failed to amaze me with his talents.”

“He must have been very dear to you.” Inigo voice was hoarse and he didn’t mean for it to be. He wasn’t sure what else he should say. He had nearly forgotten about the sound of the music flooding out the windows, but when the song changed and a slower tempo was created, he looked down and found Xander extending a hand towards him. “M-Milord?”

“Will you dance with your king?”

He would. Of course he would. Any excuse to put his hand into Xander’s and be close to him was a good excuse. He didn’t even mind the hue of blush on his cheeks because he knew (he hoped, that was) that his blush was hidden somewhat behind his mask. “It would be a privilege and an honor.” He said, and he stepped just a hair closer. His whole body jolted in a shiver when Xander’s hand came to rest on his back, and he cautiously rested his own hand on Xander’s shoulder. It was a little strange, but very comforting, to be met by the fabric of his vest and not by armor. Part of Inigo was very happy, very relieved… that Xander felt safe enough in Nohr to forgo his armor at a formal gathering. (He hoped that meant that the country was finally at peace, and that the rebellions they had predicted were resolved.)

Their dance was slow but comfortable. A dance that Inigo was familiar with. It was a Nohrian dance, one that he learned when he first arrived. It was a sort of waltz almost, but a bit more complex… it was footwork that Inigo had enjoyed learning at the time. Normally he enjoyed the Nohrian balls. He had only ever attended a few, but he loved to dance. (Unlike when he performed a solo dance, a ballroom dance was fun and not at all embarrassing. No one was looking specifically at him, after all.) He loved the slow dances, but he truly preferred the group dances. They were incredible circle dances, line dances where people who had likely had too much to drink twisted and turned and changed partners and laughed their way through the song. He thought those were normally his favorite, but… This was nice, too.

He couldn’t recall a time where he’d been allowed to dance with Xander, and admittedly he couldn’t recall a time (outside of when he first learned some of the steps) that he had taken up the roll of following a dance instead of leading it. It was different but not unwanted. It was in his nature to catch on quick, and he knew his heart would follow Xander anywhere, be it a dance or to war.

Xander was… staring at him. Still. Inigo knew even without looking at him as the song progressed, but the moment that their eyes _did_ meet he nearly forgot how to breathe under that gaze. He didn’t mean to stop moving, but he couldn’t look away and he couldn’t focus on anything except for how obnoxiously loud his heartbeat was drumming in his ears. He couldn’t even hear the music.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

Inigo parted his lips but no words came out. Xander reached up his hand and for a split second Inigo thought he was going to touch his face, he was so close, but instead he reached out and brushed his thumb over Inigo’s shirt collar. Inigo wasn’t sure why for half a second. Like he thought Xander was just going to correct it if it was folded incorrectly. He didn’t. He rolled the star charm between his finger and thumb.

“I’m not sure I…”

“I knew you the moment you approached me.” Xander spoke softly, not with any hint of anger in his voice, even if there was conviction behind the words. “I do not care what you call yourself, nor how your appearance may change,” He slid his hand up, his fingers brushed along Inigo’s jaw, and Inigo found his mouth clamping shut. Xander moved to remove the mask Inigo was wearing, and Inigo didn’t try to stop him. He thought briefly about how Gerome’s mask had gone to waste, how his plans were in vain, but… most of his thoughts focused on the way Xander’s eyes softened just slightly when he took in the sight of his bare face. “…But I will always, always know you for who you are.”

Inigo knew Xander was staring right into his eyes but he didn’t seem bothered by the brand. He didn’t seem any less confident at all, in fact. He said that he knew who Inigo was when he first approached him and Inigo thought that was probably true. It was silly of him to think he could disguise himself. Most words still eluded him. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, to being remembered.

“What made you come back?”

The question echoed in Inigo’s ears louder than Xander spoke it. It bounced off the inside of his skull wildly. He hadn’t rehearsed an answer for that, but in retrospect it seemed like the most obvious question for Xander to ask. “I…” Should he have lied? Part of him wondered if it was safer that way. Would it be in their best interest if he took things slow? He didn’t want to lie.

How could he lie? No one crossed dimensions just to protect someone they didn’t care very deeply for. “I had to leave, I had to be with my family. But I wasn’t…”

“I am well aware of why you left. Leo’s retainer left a detailed letter for him, and I have read it many times. He spoke of your homeland, and your lineage, and your title. I know who you are, Prince Inigo, I am simply uncertain of why you have returned to me.”

Owain left Leo a letter, and while that sounded exactly like him and saved Inigo some trouble it… was not reassuring. Xander had never once called him by his birth name before, not ever, and it was interesting to hear it on his tongue, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Inigo wanted more than that, and so he decided to speak his mind.

“I had to go home to be with the people I loved but… the man I loved the most wasn’t with me.” His voice cracked just slightly towards the end, but he was confident. He kept his eyes trained on Xander’s, clearly visible behind the mask he wore. In fact, he felt it strange that he still had that mask on at all, considering he’d seen fit to remove Inigo’s. “I love you, milord. I’ve come to protect you, and stand by your side, and come what may I will strive to b—mmf!”

Inigo had kissed and been kissed a few times in his life. This perhaps was the most surprising. He supposed it was not surprising that Xander shared his feelings. They had nearly kissed once before. It was surprising in the sense that the kiss was so urgent it couldn’t wait until his sentence had been completed. His hand that was on Xander’s shoulder (though their dance had long since ended) clenched up into a fist, balled up the fabric of his vest in his palm. Xander’s lips were firm and only very slightly chapped where Inigo knew he likely wasn’t eating or drinking enough when he was wrapped up in his work. They moved against Inigo’s until his mouth eased open for him, and with twice as much vigor after. At first Inigo thought his knees would droop and give out but instead he found that months of longing for this exact thing empowered him, and he raised himself to the platforms of his feet to press back into that kiss and that embrace.

When it came to an end Inigo fell back onto his heels, and Xander leaned a few inches away to give them space to breathe. It was eerily quiet for a few breaths, and then Inigo reached up and very cautiously took the mask from Xander’s face. He pulled it close to himself and held it carefully. It was clearly expensive and finely crafted, and he didn’t want it to break, but… he wanted to see him, all of him, when Xander said the words “I love you, Laslow.”

Inigo’s heart did something he’d never truly felt before. Like it surged with relief and happiness and a hint of regret all at once, but he loved the feeling. He’d wanted nothing in the world more than he’d wanted to hear those words. Perhaps Xander didn’t care about his name or his appearance, and Inigo counted his blessings for that, but he wanted nothing if not to choose who he was. He was always going to be a prince of Ylisse, and to bear the Brand of the Exalt. He was always going to be a shy mama’s boy who never felt he was good enough to measure up. But he _wanted_ to be Laslow. He wanted to be at Xander’s side, he wanted to be a citizen of Nohr and to lay down his life for his king, if it came to that.

“Never leave my side.” Xander spoke softly. Inigo— _Laslow_ —stepped closer. They were almost too close, really. There was nearly no space between them, but Laslow still fiddled with the mask in his hands and thought about those words.

“I will stand at your side as your retainer so long as you will have me.”

“You may do as you wish for as long as you live in Nohr, however I did not mean for you to be my retainer. I am asking for you to marry me.”  Laslow listened carefully to the words, tried to process them. Was he dreaming? This had progressed rather quickly. He found that he was nodding his head yes before he really knew what it meant, but he didn’t disagree with the outcome.

“I have only one condition.” Laslow said the words while he shifted his arms to wrap around Xander and embrace him, to close the distance between them that had slowly been vanishing anyway. “Even if I do not keep the title of retainer… let me keep you safe. I’ve lost you once, I won’t do it again.”

“Whatever you wish.” Xander answered, and he rested his cheek atop Laslow’s head. Laslow closed his eyes and in that embrace he forgot all of his worries. All of his fears were gone.

Laslow had been through three worlds and through three wars, and he had visited places far and wide. Although he knew he would always miss his mother and father and sister, he knew one thing to be true: after years of being uncertain: Laslow was home.


	2. Family

Part 2: _Family_

“Soleil, my love, I am _begging you_ : be a good girl for me today.” Laslow wasn’t one for pleading with his children usually, of course. Although it certainly wasn’t how Xander’s father had raised his children (and that was undoubtedly for the best) Laslow lived by the idea that kids would be kids, and sometimes they were going to make mistakes. It was easier to let them learn from their mistakes than terrifying them into walking on pins and needles, wasn’t it?

Normally with his children Laslow made suggestions and asked that they follow only the most necessary rules. Stay where someone can see you, be polite, use your manners… and lately (in Soleil’s case in particular) think before you speak.

They were only three but Laslow thought that was the worst age _to_ be. He’d been convinced his whole life that children went through a ‘terrible two’ phase and then they outgrew being small monsters. He had been gravely misinformed, because as it turned out a two-year-old was innocent. Two-year-old Soleil had no idea that making a mess was wrong. _Three-year-old_ Soleil not only knew that making a mess was wrong, but did it on purpose just to start a riot.

Of course he still believed kids would be kids, and that his children were the best there were. Occasional menaces or not. At three years old they were growing into their personalities. While something of a cry baby at times, Soleil was adventurous and always excited to explore something new or meet a new friend (especially if that new friend was a kitten). Siegbert was nearly her opposite. He got nervous around new people and he was happy to spend his day quietly looking at picture books. Laslow thought both of them were perfect just as they were, but even more wonderful was when both twins were together.

Laslow loved more than anything how well his children got along together. Although they were very different individually, together they were a perfect fit. Soleil led Siegbert on make believe adventures, but she always let him be the hero while she played his amazing helper. When Soleil was with Siegbert Laslow saw confidence on his son’s face. Not to mention when they weren’t adventuring they were often curled up together with one of Siegbert’s favorite books, and he would show Soleil why he loved them so much and point out his favorite pictures.

Usually Laslow did not have any need to beg his children to obey. This was, of course, a special occasion. First and foremost, it was the first day of new negotiations between the three kingdoms. This happened every year: the royal leaders from Hoshido, Nohr, and Valla came together and renewed their treaties and addressed any new concerns that had developed. This year it was Nohr’s turn to host the conference. Laslow tended to hate this conference. Although so far it had never fallen on the same day twice, it always managed to make his life a bother. The first conference he could recall simply _had_ to be arranged on his birthday. Of course he’d held his tongue and not complained an ounce because it wasn’t exactly anyone’s fault. The conference the following year took place in Valla, a kingdom which had been rebuilt on land donations between Hoshido and Nohr… and Xander nearly missed the day his children were born as a result. The next two years had only been minor inconveniences, and Laslow thought the curse was lifted, but…

This year was by far the worst.

“I’ll be good. Can I play with Sieggy now?” Soleil was an angel when she tried to be but there was a layer of devil hidden underneath that Laslow knew well. If she said she would behave he believed her, of course, but part of him was skeptical. It was the cursed day, after all. (He felt bad for internally thinking peace talks were cursed, of course, but how could he not?)

“No, Soleil. Siegbert is— “

“But! Dad! You said when they came to visit that me and Siegbert could play with Shiro!” Soleil argued a very valid point. Laslow had been telling them all week that when Ryoma arrived with his son they could play with him. Shiro was close friends with them (or as close friends as you could be with kids you saw twice a year at most) and only a year older. There was a complication, however.

“You may play with Shiro, but Siegbert is sick. Remember?” Siegbert had a high fever. Higher than Laslow was comfortable with, honestly, but he’d been taking care of him all night and morning and he knew all he needed was sleep and water and to keep down some food. That was the first problem of the cursed day. The second problem was Soleil’s boredom. Laslow had hoped that she would just play with Shiro and call it good, but he was worried that her good intentions may go awry. “Keep Prince Shiro out of Siegbert’s room, alright? We don’t want either of you to get sick too.”

Certainly if Soleil got sick Laslow would take care of her too, but he was worried about passing the germs to the Hoshidan family. This year they brought with them the newest addition to their royal family, a baby not even a whole year old yet named Kiragi. Laslow did not want his children to be responsible for giving the newborn prince a fever.

Soleil pouted at her father. Laslow sucked in breath to say something to her again, but instead he sneezed—and that turned into a coughing fit that had him turning away from Soleil altogether.

Ah, yes, part three of the curse (because, and Laslow knew this to be true, trouble always came in threes): Laslow had been coming down with Siegbert’s fever all morning. He counted his blessings that he was a clingy parent. He’d made himself sleep in Siegbert’s bed with him to chase away his fever dreams and to wake up now and then to replace the cool rag on his head. As a result, Laslow was sick too but… he had not even _seen_ Xander that morning. He knew there was no way that he had given his King these germs. Not yet, at least.

Laslow grew up in a family of four and he knew well and good that sickness passed like wildfire between family members, even under the cleanest of circumstances. He was usually the first to get sick in his family, followed by his mother. Lucina always caught it next, and Chrom would be miserable the week after everyone else had recovered. Laslow was, of course, hoping to avoid that trend from continuing with his own family.

“Are you sick too, dad?” Soleil asked. Laslow sniffled for a second but then put a smile on his face and shook his head.

“Of course not! Now go on. Go play with Prince Shiro, alright? Just remember: _be good_.”

…

Although Laslow had been married to the King of Nohr for a few years now, he had kept his position as his retainer. People often thought it was careless. As the king’s husband Laslow should have taken a more respectable title. (As a prince by birth himself, Xander had once mentioned, it seemed strange for Laslow to choose to stay in a position of servitude.) Laslow wanted that position. It forced Xander to include him when he needed help. It allowed Laslow to bring him tea and to help him with his work without Xander feeling like he was slacking off, and without people accusing him of selfishly trying to interrupt the king’s work. It also allowed Laslow to keep him _safe_ which was still his top priority. Although times of war were behind them now, Laslow more than anything wanted to ensure no harm ever came to Xander.

Many people thought it odd, of course. Laslow made a very serious point not to allow himself to be treated differently than the other staff. He didn’t ask to be recognized as a leader, he didn’t ask for special treatment. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want that attention on him, not really. As it was he only halfway got his wishes. Even though some things went unchanged, such as the way he and Peri stood side by side to watch doors or the way Laslow was to file paperwork and organize books in Xander’s study… some changes could not be helped. Once upon a time Laslow got up with the sun to get dressed and head down to the kitchen, and to bring Xander his breakfast. Now he did not… because the king insisted there were other people capable of carrying a tray of food, and he would much prefer to keep Laslow wrapped up in his arms and in their bed. (Who was Laslow to deny his king the chance to cuddle?)

People who lived outside of the castle did not consider Laslow to be anything less than a king, as well. He hated the attention he got when he joined Xander in Hoshido or in Valla, he hated to see people stare at him. And stare the did, for many of them considered it very strange that the King of Nohr had chosen a husband instead of a wife.

Laslow preferred the safety of Castle Krakenburg because he was surrounded by familiar faces who sort of understood why he preferred to be a retainer. Peri knew. While they did their duties together she treated him just like she always had, and he took her to get tea and cakes like they used to now and then. However, while Laslow did not care for being treated special himself, he did not allow for the same treatment of his children. Soleil and Siegbert were Nohrian royalty, the prince and princess of Nohr and both immediate heirs. They were to be treated with love and respect, and Laslow made sure of it.

Xander’s loyal retainers were supposed to be watching the door. This was not a task they were unfamiliar with. There were multiple doors to the great hall in which they were conversing, and at each door a set of retainers stood. Laslow stood beside Peri with his hands folded behind his back and his legs straight, and he had a head swimming with distractions.

It had been a while since he had heard anything about Soleil or Siegbert.

Of course he trusted the maid staff. More than once in their lives Soleil and Siegbert had been placed in their care. Soleil loved the maids because they were so pretty and sweet and Siegbert didn’t mind them because they were smart and talented.

He worried about his son, of course. The maid watching over him was absolutely capable of changing his cold compress and making sure he drank water between naps but Laslow hated that he wasn’t there for him. He also worried about _Ryoma’s son_. Soleil wasn’t known for being quiet and… he hadn’t heard a peep from her in over an hour. _Or_ from Shiro. He was worried they were getting into trouble.

“Psst.”

Laslow didn’t realize his eyelids felt heavy until he blinked his eyes and turned his gaze to Peri at his side. She looked concerned—a horrible look on her really, and one she only reserved for when she truly was worried about something. “Milady?” He asked her, as if she were a princess herself. She frowned at him.

“You’re icky pale.”

Laslow supposed that was true, if not offensive. He felt flushed, to say the least. Still, his lips twitched into a smile and he whispered back to her. “Your concern is flattering, but I promise I will be just fine.”

“Have you had anything yummy to eat or drink? King Xander keeps looking at you. He probably thinks you look icky too.”

Oh? Was he? Laslow glanced up at the king but he was pointing out something on a map on the table. Only a second later, sure enough, his eyes flickered up, they met Laslow’s… and Laslow blushed and took an interest in the floor. “I’ll be alright. The meeting is almost over, for the day.”

He had only to survive a little longer, after all, and then this cursed day would be over without so much as a hitch… right?

…

Xander had been paying very close attention to Laslow since the moment he walked into the room. Of course Xander had always been prone to letting Laslow distract him from his work, but this was very different. Having not seen his husband since the day before, he’d expected to see casual smiles and his normal, handsome face. Instead Xander saw red-rimmed eyes, a pink nose and cheeks, pasty skin, and if Laslow smiled at all it was forced and weary.

Xander had always been able to read him like a book but it was more than obvious that whatever fever Siegbert had, he had given it to Laslow as well. Of course he checked on him more and more as the meeting went on. He normally stood with perfect posture but Xander thought Laslow looked like even his shoulders were droopy and tired. The first time Azura leaned over in a whisper and mentioned it to him, Xander knew he needed to lift some burdens from him.  

Laslow was very stubborn when he refused to take a higher title. Xander often wondered if he would have refused a title in his homeland, as well. Xander coped with it as best he could. He allowed Laslow to do or be whomever he so chose, but it certainly put the king in a stressful situation. He wanted nothing to do with tasking Laslow with something potentially dangerous, after all.

Normally Laslow did a wonderful job of balancing the work of being a retainer with being a father. He was a champion at it, even. Today he needed a break, it was clear, and so Xander waved the maid who had come to let Laslow know what their children up to over to himself instead. He whispered to her not to bother Laslow any further that day, that he wasn’t feeling well, and that she should report to him instead.

If Laslow even knew that Xander had done that, he didn’t let on. More than once the maid let the king know how his children fared, and he apologized for the brief interruptions, but it seemed that everyone in attendance understood. Laslow had saved the life of everyone at that table at one time or another, not a one of them thought a thing of it. The maid told him that she had given Soleil and Shiro lunch, and that Siegbert’s fever broke, and he was drinking water and eating bread while he read. He thought that was all wonderful news and went on with the meeting.

And yet… he knew Laslow was fading fast. He hated to admit it, but he thought he would have to dismiss him. He thought perhaps he could dismiss both of his retainers, find a creative way to force them to take a break. Peri wouldn’t mind one bit, and Laslow needed to get off of his feet. Xander just wanted to spare his husband any shame. He was still turning that thought over in his mind when they began marking territories on the map that they needed to negotiate new terms with. The ice tribe and the wind tribe both, for example, had been very patient since the war ended… but were ready to negotiate. The fire tribe was less patient, but not starting any riots, yet, and…

Xander heard a noise that made his heart sink and glanced up for the _millionth_ time to see Laslow trying to hold in coughs. He had been doing it now and then the whole duration of the meeting, but it seemed like he couldn’t fight it back any longer because he slipped out into the hallway. Xander sighed and looked back down, moving his finger and opening his mouth to say something else to Ryoma and Corrin. He hesitated when Laslow’s coughing fit grew so loud he could hear it through the door. Even Saizo and Kagero seemed concerned, positioned at a door on the opposite end of the room. Peri looked uncomfortable at her post, glancing at the door handle and then away from it.

Elise (who had taken a surprising interest in sitting in on these meetings, as she matured), cast Xander a glance that he knew was a plea. She wanted him to dismiss the poor thing, and he did as well. He cleared his throat. “Peri.”

She bowed at the waist and asked “Yes, your majesty?” She was rarely formal with him. Only during events like this, where she did her best to show off what a wonderful retainer she was for her liege.

“Perhaps there are too many people in here. You and Laslow may be—!”

The coughing stopped short. There was silence for a split second, and then a fairly nauseating _thud_ from the hallway. _Oh, no._

…

When Laslow woke up there was a weight on his arm that he couldn’t identify right away. His whole body felt like he’d been slapped with a bag of bricks a time or two, and he was hot. He turned his head lazily and a cold compress slid off of it, startling him just a little. The arm that wasn’t weighed down, he used that arm to pick it up and set the rag aside… and then he glanced down at the cause of his numbness. Siegbert, of course. He was asleep, curled up on Laslow’s arm and against his chest. Just on the other side of Siegbert was Soleil, also asleep but not hindering Laslow in anyway. He should have normally expected for Xander to be on her opposite side, in the bed he knew to be their own, but he wasn’t.

Candle light came from across the room, from Xander’s desk, and Laslow blearily blinked in that direction. “Xander..?” His voice was a rasp and he did his best to clear his throat when he heard how atrocious it was.

“You’re awake.” Xander glanced up at him from his work. He set his quill back into the jar of ink. Laslow wondered what time of night it was, why Xander was still working, but more importantly how this had all happened. He supposed he did vaguely remember his head bouncing off the stone floor of the hallway, but… “How are you feeling?”

“Like I fainted.” He muttered in response. Xander stood up and took the compress aside to soak in cool water. As he was wringing it out, Laslow tried to piece together the day. “Your meeting…?”

“We were forced to cut it short. There was something of an uproar in the castle when you fainted, Laslow. You scared everyone—myself included. Peri was in tears.” Bless Peri’s heart, really, Laslow hadn’t meant to worry her any more than he already had. He thought he was going to make it through the meeting, after all. “I’ve finished up most of my work. The last treaties are already written up, and I will send them to King Ryoma as soon as I am able.”

“I thought they were planning to stay for a few days?”

“It shouldn’t surprise you that no one wanted to risk catching your fever.”

“They left, all of them? Because of me? Oh, gods,” Laslow closed his eyes again with a heavy sigh. “That’s humiliating.”

“They simply wished you a speedy recovery, Laslow. No one was upset by it. Well—save for those two.” Xander gestured gently to the sleeping children before he pushed Laslow’s bangs from his face and replaced the cool cloth. Laslow flinched at how cold it felt against his head, but he was certain that water was room temperature. His fever was, he suspected, worse than he first thought. “Nothing I said could get either of them to leave your side. Siegbert was… a mess.”

Naga only knew that Siegbert had likely blamed himself for Laslow’s fever. He sighed and glanced at the sleeping boy. He would have to reassure him, come morning, that everything was fine. Laslow understood his concerns, of course. He had similar concerns. Specifically because Xander had been forced to cancel plans they had made a month in advance, over _Laslow_. He would have to reassure Siegbert that neither of them were to blame.

Xander was the one forced to stay up late and finish up work he could have completed earlier, had his husband not forgotten how to stand. “How much longer will you stay up?” Laslow asked, and he slid his eyes closed comfortably when Xander combed his fingers through his hair, and brushed his thumb past his flushed cheek.

“I’d planned to finish these documents.”

Laslow thought that was fair and reasonable, but… “Will you..?” He trailed off. He’d already ruined it. The whole day. The peace treaty curse had struck again, and this time it was _Laslow_ to be blamed. Not Siegbert’s sickness or Soleil’s adventuring. He supposed he should have let Xander work. The King stood up and walked back to his desk, but surprisingly only for just a moment to snuff out the candle. The room was dark then, but Xander managed to navigate back to Laslow, because he felt the bed shift under his weight and warmth against his back.

Siegbert shifted closer to Laslow in his sleep, and he could hear Soleil’s ungraceful snoring, and he supposed this was his favorite part of being a family. Sure, they really needed to break their habit of coming to sleep in their bed, but… not that day. And not until all of them were healthy. Laslow made a mental note, before he drifted back to sleep with his king’s warm arms wrapped tight around him, that he would be sure to get well quickly, to take care of Xander and Soleil, if they turned up sick, too.


	3. Fear

Part 3: _Fear_

Laslow had never been quite as afraid in his whole life as he was in that moment. A crackle of lightning split through the sky, and zipped down with white heat. The air smelled like it was singed and that was the only warning that they had. That was the only sign that a spell was about to ripple through the air and claim the life of their three-year-old son. Nothing in the entire world would have prepared him for that feeling. Losing his parents had been the most painful thing he thought he had ever endured, but even just the _idea_ of losing his child was unbearable.

Of course, the smell and sound of a forming spell was warning enough. Two men who had seen so much death and so much war certainly didn’t need much more of a sign to be wary. Laslow didn’t need more of a sign to jump. He was light on his feet, he always had been, and he would have walked through fire for his son. Being struck by lightning was an equally painful alternative. In the very moment that his body was jolting with a sparkler effect of pain his husband, his king, was pulling Siegbert a few steps away while the little boy cried.

The pain subsided soon enough. He was thankful the spell only appeared to be a basic tome, and he stood up on shaky legs and looked not in the direction of his sobbing son, but in the direction of the spell-caster. That was, if he could have found them. _Where had it come from?_ Xander had the same look on his face. He looked nervous. Soleil walked closer to her father, to Laslow, and she wrapped her arms around his leg.

He scooped her up and ran inside. His king was on his tail. He thought that they might be safe there. He kept his daughter in his arms and absolutely refused to let go. He combed his fingers through her hair nervously while he tried to come up with a plan, tried to think. He felt the heat of Xander’s hand on his shoulder.

 _Xander_.

He was sick. It took an entire week for him to come down with the fever that had spread through his family, but when the king became ill it was obvious right away. He was not as strong as he normally was, he was not as attentive. Laslow knew the reason he was spending his day with his family outdoors and wasn’t working was because he was too ill to focus. His hand was hot where he had a fever. His face was flushed.

Laslow would keep him safe.

The walls of the castle shook when a blast of _something_ crashed through them. Laslow set down Soleil beside her brother, standing at Xander’s feet. He ran back outside, took a look, and…

There was a gaping hole in the stone walls. It was devastated. The castle was under attack. Their _home_ was under attack. His eyes darted through the smoke and the dust that was lifting up, trying to find out what had caused such a overwhelming blow. The defenses of Castle Krakenburg were nearly unrivaled! Even in Xander’s reign, even when people were building a better relationship with their king… it still was well defended.

A strange light made him squint, before his eyes grew twice their size and he turned tail and ran. _Ran_ back into the castle, grabbed his children by their wrists and practically _threw them_ into the next room. Threw his body over theirs and at the last second grappled for the collar of Xander’s shirt to pull his head down low and under his arm as well. Not a second after another blast shook the castle, obliterated the room they had only just been standing in, and screams echoed through the halls. As the dust began to settle Laslow was hyper aware of the terrified breaths his children were panting in and out underneath him, and of his king’s raspy coughing as the dust filled up his already weakened lungs. It didn’t stop him. Xander was quick to force them to their feet. He scooped up his son and Laslow carried Soleil and he guided them down the winding halls of the castle in the fastest way he knew how.

“Evacuate the castle!” His booming voice shouted as he ran. Servants and staff and retainers alike seemed petrified with fear, though. This had never happened before, never. The castle rumbled again from somewhere behind them, but this time…

Laslow stopped in his tracks to look behind him as the upper floor of the castle collapsed down into the lower. His heart stopped. How many people may have been in any of those rooms? Where were Xander’s siblings? Their retainers? Where was Peri? Xander’s hand was hot on his back, pushing him to run again. They needed to get out of the castle and find safety for their children.

A blast from in front of them caused even Xander to freeze. Laslow’s breath hitched at the edge of his throat. “The castle is surrounded.” He whispered. Soleil hiccupped in his arms. He looked down at her, and then at Xander. It absolutely did not matter. He would protect his king, as he had always promised. His thoughts raced as he tried to find an alternate escape from the castle. Anything—anything at all that might save his family.

Dirt crumbled above him and he looked up just as a huge slab of stone dislodged itself from the ceiling above him and he thought he would die. Instead he felt pain where his king yanked him backwards so hard. The crash of stone made Soleil scream and Siegbert wail.

“Laslow.” Xander spoke urgently, and he nodded his head down a yet untouched hallway. They ran, but… Laslow wasn’t sure where they were going until they arrived in front of the armory. Neither of them visited this room often. Xander kept Siegfried strapped to his body at all times, it’s scabbard was a mark of pride for him. Laslow had continued wielding his weapon as he always had, and thusly it had yet to break. (Weapons in Nohr, he had learned, were crafted to be much more durable than weapons in his homeland.)

Inside the armory and off to the side there was a small trophy display of various weapons of value. One that Laslow had previously never seen caught his eye, specifically when Xander reached out for it (he had little need to hold on to Siegbert with both arms, the boy was so scared and wrapped around him he was supporting himself) and held it out to Laslow.

“Milord..?” Three years and it was impossible for him to break his habit of calling Xander by a title Specifically because he was _still_ his retainer. He tried to show the same respect that would be expected of him even if he was not his husband. Xander often teased him when he said it, asked him if he should call him by a princely title, too. Today he didn’t, of course. Today he had a very stern look on his face.

“Laslow,” his voice was so raw. The shouting, Laslow realized, must have expended it. He was losing his voice to his fever. He was panting harder than Laslow was too, and for a second Laslow wondered if he could juggle both children in his arms. Maybe he should have been carrying them both? Xander was such a strong man it was hard to imagine him weakened, but it was a fact. He was ill. “I had this rapier commissioned for you, it was to be an anniversary gift.” He began. “Take it now.”

The sword was slim. It was suited to someone with a fighting style such as Laslow, quick and precise. He reached for it and the moment his hand gripped the hilt he knew something was special about it. He knew it had been imbued with magic, just a little. _Something_ felt magical about it, to say the least.

A glance at the pommel of the sword and he understood why. “This is… Where did you get this?”

A translocation stone. Not his—not his original stone. This one was much larger, the size of a rather large cherry instead of a small marble. It was facetted like it was a gemstone, like it was to be decorative and not to be magical. Laslow may have mistaken it for glass if he hadn’t known what it was, if he hadn’t held on to one of those stones for five years of his life.

“I meant for this sword to remind you of home.” Xander whispered. Laslow supposed it did. It was a noble blade suited for a prince, not a retainer, but he supposed he was both of those things. It wasn’t blackened steel like most Nohrian weapons. It was bright and golden, with a beautiful swirling guard along the hilt. It reminded him of weapons of his home land, and of sunshine and blue skies. The magic of the translocation stone reminded him of home as well, and he supposed he understood the benefit to it, even if… even if he wasn’t sure where Xander found another one. Perhaps they were more common to Valla than Laslow knew?

“Laslow.”

Laslow’s eyes lifted back to meet his husband’s. He had been lost in thought momentarily, but Xander’s voice was as firm as it could be in his current state and the rumbling castle drew his attention to him as well. Nerves filled him. Xander’s eyes had something akin to penitence in them, and Laslow… didn’t understand why. “…Yes, Xander?”

“I never meant for you to use this sword like this. The magic of this weapon was meant to empower you, not to help you escape, and yet… You must use it now.”

It was less than ideal. If they used the stone to escape to Ylisse, there was a small chance that the stone, while larger, may not be powerful enough to make a two-way trip. Another wing of the castle collapsed. Xander startled somewhat, and Laslow nodded his head. It wasn’t safe here, not for his children and not for his husband. They would have to risk it. “You are aware there is always a chance we will not be able to return. The magic expended to recharge mine, to return me home to you the last time I went to Ylisstol…”

“Rest assured, my love, that I will come for you when it is safe.”

Laslow’s words fell out of his mind. His thoughts swirled. What? His previous acceptance turned immediately into denial. “I— _What_? You’re not—You can’t… You can’t stay here alone, Xander! The castle has _fallen_ , and you are the king! This is obviously an attempt on your life, I…”

“I will be safe.”

“Yes, you will,” Laslow didn’t mean to shout but he was beginning to panic. This was going far from the direction he wanted it to go. “You will be safe because I will protect you. I am your _retainer_. It is my job to keep you safe!”

“Laslow!” Sharp. Laslow did not think he could remember a time when Xander’s tone with him had been quite that sharp. “You are my _husband_. Your job is to protect our children, retainer or not.”

“I can do both!”

“Tell me how. Tell me how you plan to keep them safe while we stand in a crumbling ruin? You cannot! For the future of Nohr, and for me, take them away from here. I will retrieve another stone. I _will_ find you again.”

“But what if you don’t!? What if you die?” Laslow didn’t mean to make his children cry harder, but those words alone certainly had both of them leaping into a new wave of hysterics. Guilt flooded him, but he only bit his lip and held his ground.

“Laslow. Who am I?”

Xander did not sound like he was asking the question literally. The blunette wavered on his feet, swayed nervously. He knew what was coming, and he already hated it. “X-Xander…”

“I am your _king_ , Laslow.”

“Please don’t do this…”

“Take our children to safety. Now. This is an order.” The very words shook him to his core. He didn’t want Xander to do this. He didn’t want him to stay behind. He could be hurt, or killed. How would he escape this mess? How would he find another stone, one strong enough to bring his family back home? This… This, Laslow knew, could be goodbye. This could be the last time he ever saw his precious husband.

Laslow swallowed the knot in his throat that kept him from speaking, and he shifted Soleil to only one of his hips. It was with obvious discontent that he opened his other arm, and with clear heartbreak that he watched Xander literally pry Siegbert off of himself to put him into Laslow’s arms. He’d never heard Soleil be so quiet as she was listening to her fathers fight, and he had never heard Siegbert quite so defiant as he was when he shouted “No!”

But he latched gently onto Laslow’s neck and Laslow struggled to hold them both and also keep a strong grip on that rapier. “Xander I…” He hesitated in his words. Xander’s hands were hot on his cheeks. He was so sick, Xander was _burning up_ with fever. Laslow wanted to tuck him into bed, not to abandon him in a collapsing palace. He brushed away wetness from Laslow’s cheeks that he supposed he hadn’t even noticed. Tears he had no time to focus on.

“Stay strong, my love. I will see you again soon.” Xander whispered, and he pressed a warm and slow kiss to Laslow’s forehead. “I’ve lost you once. I won’t do it again.”

He nodded his head in agreement, but he couldn’t have disagreed more. There had to be another way. He was afraid to leave Xander alone. He was afraid Peri may have been in the collapsed ruins. His heart was flooded with all of these fears, and he just…

His arms were tired. Tired because they were holding the weight of two three year olds, awkwardly. They were weighed down by an obligation far stronger than keeping Xander safe, however. They were weighed down with the obligation to protect his children. He sucked in a breath as Xander stepped backwards and away from them.

He left.

…

He was in pain. Just a little, just slightly. His head must have hit the ground. The weight of his children on top of him prompted his eyes open, and Laslow sat up anxiously to check on them. Fine. They were both fine. They slid off of him and stood side by side. Laslow noticed Soleil reach out and wind her fingers into Siegbert’s. He smiled in spite of himself, thinking of a time when he was tiny, when his older sister would hold his hand too. When his parents died.

He was just praying that they would not experience the pain of losing a father.

“Where is father?” Siegbert asked softly. Laslow got to his feet and took Siegbert’s other hand. The moment he did, though, Soleil detached herself from her brother and walked to Laslow’s other side, to hold his other hand. He had to struggle to slide the rapier through his belt quickly, so that she could stay by his side.

“He is at home.” Laslow answered with a shaky breath. He looked up and around. Up a hill and in the distance, not too far, he saw the familiar silhouette of castle Ylisstol. “You heard him, loves. We’ll see him again soon.”

“You said he could die.” Soleil squeaked a tiny protest, and tears rolled down her little cheeks. Laslow regret his earlier words more than anything really.

“He won’t.” Laslow tried to sound confident for them. “He is big and brave and strong. He will be just fine. We will see him again soon.”

“Do you promise?” Siegbert asked, and Laslow glanced at him with a fake smile he thought didn’t feel at all convincing. He couldn’t promise. So he didn’t. He hummed dismissively and swung their hands in the direction of the palace.

“Now… how would you two like to meet the most beautiful woman in the entire world?” He asked, hoping to distract them. Laslow did not want to be here. He wanted to be fighting by his king’s side. He supposed, if he had to be away from him… at least while he was here he could visit with his family. Perhaps he would see Owain again, or Severa? He hated to admit it, and he wanted to be very strong for his children, but… Laslow had always been a mama’s boy. He wanted a hug.

He had only been away from Nohr for a few minutes, but he was already desperately homesick.


	4. Return

Part 4: _Return_

Laslow used to love the gardens at Castle Ylisstol. They were beautiful. There were flowers all over, beautiful benches, a set of fountains and a little brook with a bridge over it There was a massive hedge maze (he had already had to rescue Siegbert from it once) with a massive fountain in the center, as well. When they were children, before their parents died, Lucina used to play all sorts of games with him in the gardens.

He used to love playing in the gardens, and taking a stroll through them, but they made him miss home, now. Laslow crossed his arms and paced nervously. In the not-so distance his children were chasing each other with wooden sword. Sometimes Laslow had to step in when they played that game, because Soleil would take it too seriously. Today they were getting along fine, though.

Today the air was crisp and the sun was bright in a sapphire sky, and Laslow was… afraid. Even more so when a hand on his shoulder made him jolt. “Wha—!”

“O-oh! It’s only me.” Olivia’s voice was beautiful. Laslow turned to look at her and even in his fear a smile made its way to his face. He loved his mother very much, after all. She had her son on her hip. Her real son. After all, no matter how much he loved her and wished, this woman wasn’t his _real_ mother. His mother had passed away.

Likewise, this little boy named Inigo would not grow up to be the same man that Laslow was now. They would lead very different lives, and in different worlds. Or… Well Laslow certainly hoped in different worlds.

Little Inigo was only a year older than Laslow’s children. He was four and although Laslow knew that they would lead different lives, they were obviously not _all_ different. Inigo was nervous and shy around “new friends” and he had wanted nothing to do with Soleil and Siegbert when they met. All things considered, Laslow supposed he couldn’t vividly remember being that shy. Olivia set him on his feet and turned him to face the children playing pretend. “Go on, go play with them.” She encouraged.

Laslow felt an incredible wave of second-hand embarrassment for the poor child, who shook his head no and tried to hide behind her legs. Had he really been like that? Siegbert was, thankfully, nowhere near as shy as his father once was. Finally he relented, and the little boy walked away with a stiff back and poised to run at any moment. Olivia sighed.

“Okay, now that he’s gone we can talk. You’ve been here for a whole week, Inigo. Why haven’t you told me why?”

Laslow shook his head left and right. “You shouldn’t call me that. They might hear you. I think it’s for the best that they not know.” When Laslow arrived at the castle servants recognized him and seemed confused and concerned. Lucina looked worried, but very happy just the same. He took his mother and father and sister aside and decided with them not to tell Siegbert and Soleil they were family. It would confuse them and… it might hurt them to part ways, later on. Olivia was so excited to meet her grandchildren. Lucina asked how long Laslow would be staying.

He had no idea.

Laslow wanted to say that he would be leaving soon but he couldn’t have known. He had no idea if Xander even escaped from the castle, and if he had… did it matter? Anything strong enough to level Krakenburg would likely squash Windmire into the ground. Not to mention he was _sick_. Xander had been ill that day. He had no business being up and walking around, let alone trying to save his kingdom.

Laslow remembered shortly after he arrived in Ylisse that there was an underground city and a system of catacombs beneath Krakenburg, but… he had no way of knowing if his husband made it there safely. He didn’t know _anything_.

“Fine then. But it _is_ your name. Don’t forget it, alright?”

Laslow chuckled under his breath. How could he forget? He would never leave behind the memories of his life in Ylisse. He was always going to be part of this world, even if only in stories. His chuckle melted into a frown when Olivia asked him again. “Why are you _here_? I thought… well I don’t know what I thought. I never expected to see you again!”

“We were attacked.” Laslow whispered. Olivia closed her mouth. Inigo’s voice was strained. “I’ve never seen anything like it, not since…” Well, he could vividly remember the walls of Castle Ylisstol tumbling before Grima in his past. His future? A future that no longer existed, that was. It was actually just like that. It was just like losing his home, because it _was_ his home. Both times. He blinked his eyes to try and hold back tears, but he had never been good at that so he wiped a few away with the back of his hand. No gloves, no armor, not while he was in Ylisse. Just his clammy, nervous hand and his wedding ring to be a shock of cold against his face.

Olivia covered her mouth with her hands. “What about..! Did Prince Xander fall?” She called him prince and Laslow supposed that was because the last time they spoke Xander was a prince. The last time they spoke Laslow was _Inigo_ , and he was leaving to chase the heart of a prince. Now he was Laslow, and he had a ring and two children but no husband to show for it, in the moment.

“No! I—No. He sent us away and said…” Laslow bit his lip. “He said he would come back for us. I should have been there for him. I shouldn’t have left him behind, He was sick—he needed help.”

“Oh, Inigo…” Olivia murmured.

“Laslow.” He corrected softly. She rolled her eyes.

“Right, right. _Laslow_. I’m sure he’s alright. He’ll be back for you before you know it!” She smiled but it wasn’t as reassuring as he had hoped it would be. He looked away from her and nodded his head. Yes, Xander would come back for him. He would do it because he loved him. In the meantime… Laslow kept his rapier close at all times, with the hope that it might somehow make Xander’s journey to them easier.

“And if he isn’t?” Laslow finally asked. He had to. He had no idea how to raise his children alone. Certainly he could feed them and love them but they needed Xander too. Siegbert asked for him every night since they had arrived in Ylisstol and every night Laslow had to promise he would come back soon. Every night Laslow slept in a bed he shared with his children because he was too afraid to sleep alone, and so how could he blame them for wishing to sleep with him as well?

Part of him looked forward to the lecture on their independence he would certainly get from his king. He looked forward to it certainly, because if nothing else a lecture meant that Xander was alive and had returned to him.

“Then you will stay with us, and we will love you just as always.” Olivia decided for him. He didn’t… know if that was for the best. In spite of his thoughts though he was distracted. A whizz that he recognized to be _Inigo_ (and he often had to fight not to call him the ‘real’ Inigo, as if he himself were a fraud of some sort) bolted towards them, and behind Olivia’s legs. Hot on his tail was none other than Soleil.

“Play with us!” She shouted it perhaps more aggressively than she meant to. Siegbert stood back behind her, but he didn’t say a word on the subject. Laslow opened his mouth to suggest that perhaps they leave the little prince alone, but his mother spoke up before he could.

She crouched in front of him and said “Now, Inigo. I thought you told me you wanted to be friends with them?”

Laslow’s lips parted somewhat with concern. It was… strange. Part of him struggled with understanding that this Inigo was not himself, but another part saw him as an entirely different person, just another child, and therefore an almost paternal instinct had settled over him. He didn’t know how to cope with it really, and so he avoided interacting with him to the best of his abilities. He would have had to ask Lucina how she coped with it, later.

The little boy nodded his head but he looked like he was about to burst into tears. His voice was so quiet, just above a whisper when he said “I-I’m scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Olivia cooed at him. She tucked some of his hair behind his ear and she put her fingertip against his nose. “I know you’re shy, but Soleil and Siegbert are very friendly. They want to play with you.”

“B-But…”

“You know, Inigo, I have a secret to tell you. Will you listen carefully?”

Laslow didn’t know what that younger version of himself was thinking, but he certainly thought _he_ was interested in the secret. Possibly because he hung on to every word his mother said. Possibly because he had similar conversations with Siegbert in the past. Ultimately what Olivia said was unexpected.

“The very best way to get over your fears and shyness is by talking to girls! Soleil is a very nice and pretty girl, don’t you think? I bet she would love to talk to you, too.”

Laslow’s mouth fell open.

He thought once that Tiki had told him time could never entirely be rewritten, and that it always tried to get onto its correct path. Laslow could remember his mother telling him the very same thing when he was a child, but he certainly had not been playing tag with _Soleil_ when it happened to him. What was more was that his mother _knew_ what that statement had turned him into. She knew that Laslow spent most of his life as a philanderer and a dandy.

He wondered if those words meant that this Inigo would too? Laslow watched the boy process the words. He still looked like he was maybe going to cry, but he turned around to look at Soleil (and goodness, Laslow was proud of his daughter for demonstrating something akin to patience on that day) and then he took a bold step closer. He opened his mouth and he hesitated, and then he asked “W-Would you p-p-play hide and s-seek?”

Soleil lit up, it was obvious. Even more Siegbert clapped his hands together from behind her. He was very good at hide and seek. He loved the detective work involved with finding his friends. Soleil nodded her head enthusiastically and asked “Do you want to seek first? Or hide?”

Just like that they were playing a game. Laslow watched them run off and looked back at his mother with a sideways smile. “You’ve just created a monster, you know.”

She giggled and shook her head. “It worked, though! They’re playing together now.”

Laslow supposed that was true.

…

He missed his husband. Laslow missed everything about Nohr, really. He hated himself for it. He hated that he felt like he didn’t belong in Ylisse anymore. He felt like an outcast, even among his friends. Laslow was a citizen of Nohr, by all means he was the king consort. Sure, he’d never really let anyone call him that but…

This wasn’t his home.

This wasn’t intricate cobblestone streets that led to a little tea shop where they always rolled their eyes but they knew his favorites by heart and loved to bring sweets to his children. This wasn’t air tinged with magic or a perpetual hint of fall and clouds. Ylisse was beautiful but Laslow was _homesick_.

Siegbert and Soleil were homesick, too. So after their baths while he sat on the bed plaiting Soleil’s hair so it might not be as tangled when she woke up, he was not at all surprised when she asked “Is daddy really coming to get us?”

“Of course he is! He said he would!” Siegbert nearly shouted at Soleil. Laslow was surprised. He rarely raised his voice at anyone, let alone his sister, but… he supposed he understood. Siegbert missed Xander just like they did. Xander was the one, after all, who spent the most time letting Siegbert sit in his lap and ‘read’ to him. Xander was a strong man and a good king and he was very good at hiding behind a mask of indifference but he was also the biggest _softie_ when it came to his children.

“But where is he?” Soleil asked. “What if he—?”

“Soleil, that is enough.” Laslow whispered into her ear. He tied off her braid and hugged her around her shoulders. “Do you remember what he said to us? He said to stay strong.”

Two weeks was a long time, however, for two toddlers to go without seeing the face they loved so dearly. Laslow thought he missed the days when all of them were sick, and curled up together in bed. At least they were together.

…

Siegbert frequently had nightmares about Xander, lately. It had been three weeks then, since they had left Nohr. In three weeks Laslow saw them become fast friends with his younger self. In three weeks word got to the small town across Ylisse where Owain had settled down, and Laslow was able to see his cousin again. (Granted he had already met _this time’s_ Owain, but also only once and just in passing. Laslow saw him playing some sort of ridiculous game with _Inigo_ , and it was… good to see that even without the war his cousin was still his best friend.) Soleil had the time of her life playing games with the incredibly theatrical Ophelia, and Laslow was amazed to meet Owain’s daughter too.

There was a moment when Laslow worried they might uncover the secret he had been hiding from his children. Ophelia’s arm was on display and Soleil looked at her brand and gasped. She asked about it only for Ophelia to begin explaining that it was important. Soleil interrupted her (and bless her, really) to pull up her shirt and show her the same mark that she had on her hip.

Ophelia looked directly at Owain. Laslow could only imagine the telepathy passed between them, but he certainly _saw_ Owain bring a finger to his lips to beg her silence. Laslow imagined he would explain that Soleil and Siegbert were also _Chosen Ones_ later.

Owain was good for Laslow. He knew Nohr, and he knew the names and faces of the people that he spoke of. He asked about Lord Leo, he asked about Xander, he punched Laslow’s shoulder and teased him for silly things… but he only served to make Laslow more homesick, too.

Siegbert had frequent nightmares and that was why Laslow was awake in the middle of the night. He had only just calmed his son back to sleep. (What was he supposed to do? Siegbert was, already, sharing a bed with Laslow. There was no safer place for him.) Then he heard a small commotion from some of the guards.

He thought he heard the word ‘attack’ and his heart raced. He absolutely _could not_ bear to see another castle fall. He slipped out of bed and dressed only in slacks and his undershirt and boots. He didn’t have time to worry over a vest or gloves or any of that. Only to grab for his rapier and meet up with the guards.

When he found them Lucina and Chrom were already there. He looked between his father and sister. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“Someone saw a purple light in the sky.” Lucina whispered. “A scout is all. I am sure it is nothing, brother, but…it could also have been a Risen.”

“A Ri…” Laslow shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “They’re all long gone. If it was a Risen there wouldn’t be any question, Lucy. They aren’t exactly hard to spot.”

“It is probably nothing.” Chrom admitted. Laslow glanced at his father and then back at his sister. “We’re going to investigate it, is all, Laslow. You don’t have to join us. It’s still dark out, and…”

 _You’ve been through enough_.

Laslow could practically sense the words on his father’s tongue, but he shook his head. “I’ll tag along. I’m sure they’ll sleep a few more hours.” His children, that was. They would sleep until the sun woke them.

The journey out to where the light was spotted didn’t take long. It was in the woods not far from Ylisstol. Down the path, down the hill, into the trees. They wandered nearly an hour before Chrom groaned. “There’s nothing here. It must have been nothing.”

“In my experience, father, it is never nothing.” Lucina murmured. Laslow agreed with her, really, but he thought there was nothing to find in those woods anyway, save a squirrel or three. And then there was a crack. He thought it was a deer, initially. He was planning to ignore it. Then there was another, and the sound grew closer. Lucina and Chrom looked in the direction that Laslow’s head had snapped in, too. Laslow drew his blade and it bounced some of the earliest hints of sunlight that peaked through the trees off of it.

“A Risen, you think?” Lucina asked. Laslow knitted his brows and shook his head.

“No, no. It sounds like…armor.” His heart flopped around as he dared hope for something he knew likely improbable. “It sounds like _armor_!” He should have been more careful but his heart was stupid and his brain wasn’t contributing when he rushed forward towards the sound. He pushed back the branches of a shrub and when he did he was met with the tip of a blade at his nose.

Laslow didn’t move an inch, didn’t even breathe for a second. _Lucina_ did. She shouted and charged, and she made to jump at who she saw as an enemy, at who she saw threatening her brother. Laslow, on the other hand, dropped his sword altogether to grab her by her waist and struggle (why was she so strong?) to hold her back. “Lucy, wait!”

“Let me go!”

“Laslow?”

“Xander.”

He had come for him, after all.


	5. Promise

Part 5: _Promise_

 

_“Lucy, wait!”_

_“Let me go!”_

_“Laslow?”_

“Xander.”

Laslow had his arms wrapped tight around his sister’s waist to keep her back. He did not know which sword would win in a fight between Falchion and Siegfried but he had no interest in finding out. The moment Xander processed who Laslow was he lowered his sword anyway, and… as soon as Laslow addressed him by name Lucina stopped struggling and regained her composure.

It had been three weeks since Laslow had seen his husband and he certainly had missed him. When he was sure his sister wasn’t about to cut into him he took a clumsy step forward, stumbled over a snag, but managed to find himself in a position to wrap his arms around Xander’s neck.

 _I’ve never seen this armor before_. He thought to himself. It was shinier, newer. He wondered if it had been commissioned before the attack, and just never used. He didn’t particularly care. He turned his face into the king’s neck to breathe him in.

Xander was usually less for public displays of affection than Laslow. He usually pulled him aside before he kissed him or held him close like this. At first Laslow thought that Xander was just humoring him, surely he would have had better composure after three weeks, but…

Xander put his hand on the back of Laslow’s head, carded his gloved fingertips through his hair before almost gripping. He squeezed Laslow close enough that the armor almost hurt him, and he tucked his nose and mouth against his head. Laslow felt a small kiss laid over his hair and he wondered… what had happened to his husband. What had he been through in that short time that made this… so emotional, even for him?

Laslow would never shame his husband for being emotional, of course. He’d never shamed Laslow for it! Still, when he took a step back and lifted his bare hands to brush over his jaw and cheeks, Laslow was… further concerned by the traces of unshed tears in his eyes. _I miss you. Are you alright? What happened?_ The questions swirled in his mind but the only thing Laslow found himself saying was a quiet “I love you.”

Xander’s response was a whoosh of air and a nod of his head. “I love you too, Laslow.” He whispered. _Finally_ , he regained his composure. Finally he slid his sword into its scabbard. Finally he turned his attention to Lucina, and to Chrom, and to the small company behind them, and he spoke clearly. “I am King Xander, of Nohr. I did not mean to cause a commotion.”

Lucina was quiet, observant. Laslow thought (knew, actually) she was measuring him up. She was deciding if she liked her brother’s husband. Chrom and Lucina were different in that regard. Chrom was always willing to meet a new ally, and he reached out his hand to Xander. Xander didn’t really hesitate to shake it. If he cared about shaking hands he didn’t let on. He just listened to Chrom.

“No harm done. We’ve had worse things fall out of the sky. I am Chrom, of Ylisstol. Are you alone? Come to the castle with us. I’ll have Frederick find you some fresh clothes to wear, and breakfast will be ready in a few hours.”

Xander nodded his head. Laslow took his hand and held onto it tight while they walked. He was worried.

 

…

 

Chrom and Lucina left Xander in Laslow’s more than capable hands. The rest of the castle would be waking soon. When they returned to the room Laslow had been sharing with their kids, he watched Xander move to sit on the bed. He pushed some of Soleil’s hair out of her face, and he smiled when she let out a loud snore. A tiny smile.

“Let me get all that armor off of you before you wake them.” Laslow spoke softly. He knew that the moment they saw Xander they would be hanging onto him for the whole day. They had missed him dearly. He also knew that the best hugs Xander gave were the hugs that weren’t masked behind metal. Xander stood up and walked closer to Laslow, and right away he began to take the armor off.

He looked like he had so much to say but he was clearly hesitating. Laslow couldn’t imagine why. He worried that perhaps there was war in Nohr. A part of him genuinely worried that Xander may intend for Laslow to remain, and not to go back with him. Another part of him entertained the idea that they would have to leave their children behind. He hated all of those ideas.

The silence only hung between them long enough for Laslow to rid Xander of all of his armor. He helped Xander to change his shirt (something he needed no help with, but Laslow had missed having his hands on his husband and he wanted to indulge), and it was when his chest was bare that Laslow noticed something new.

A scar that trailed from one end of his chest to the other. It was clearly a sword cut, one that could have killed him. It was a large scar, one that could never have been missed, but that was only part of what made Laslow halt.

The scar was from _such a deep wound_ , but it was entirely healed. He slid his hands across it, trailed his fingertips along an injury that by all means could have killed him. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly he noticed _everything_. His hair was just a bit longer, his armor was new, this scar was old, and now more than anything Laslow realized that the little lines by his eyes were just the slightest bit more defined. He thought of how desperately Xander had held him in the woods, and he thought of how he looked at his children like he hadn’t seen them in ages.

Laslow tilted his eyes up to Xander’s and he opened his mouth to say something about the revelation he had so obviously made. Instead Xander leaned down and kissed him, and it effectively distracted Laslow. He had so many questions, he really did, but the feeling of a kiss he’d missed for three long weeks, the cool metal of Xander’s wedding band on his cheek, those were things Laslow could not ignore.

He was _going_ to find out what happened, later.

 

…

 

Laslow didn’t think in his entire life he had seen his children as happy as they were when they woke up that morning. As he suspected they spent the entire morning with him. In his arms, on his lap, Siegbert stayed close to his leg in order to keep an eye on his father wherever he went. It was cute, in a way. It was also heartbreaking that he was so worried Xander might disappear if he looked away for too long. Laslow had the exact same thoughts, however… so he understood.

Eventually, and only sometime after lunch, the itch to be children and play got ahold of them. They ran through the gardens and played with the friends they had made here in Ylisse. Although he had grown comfortable with Laslow and his children, the little prince Inigo was certainly not comfortable with the giant of a man that was King Xander of Nohr… and so he avoided him.

Xander found the time to lean closer to Laslow and tease him for having sucked his thumb until he was four. Laslow felt a grin on his face… because for the first time that day, he felt like he was truly reunited with _his Xander_.

He led him away from the children, and towards the hedge maze.

 

…

 

The hedge maze was tall and private and the thick shrubs were able to shroud whispers, and that was why Laslow brought his king there. He slid his fingers through his hair, and Xander turned and kissed Laslow’s palm without hesitation.

He’d missed him. It was very obvious. That wasn’t to say that Laslow had not missed his husband, but he could tell. He recognized the desperation in how much Xander missed him from himself, from when he returned to Nohr the first time. He recognized the longing. He recognized time.

“You fought a whole war without me, didn’t you?” He whispered, and Xander’s lips curled down into a frown. Laslow held his stare until Xander looked away, and instead pulled Laslow close to him and just _held him_. Laslow still had more questions, but he was afraid to ask.

He wanted to be angry. Xander should have let him help. He should have allowed Laslow to protect him, as his retainer and as his husband. Part of him supposed he _was_ mad. He was mad that Xander made that decision alone. That said, he couldn’t lie to himself… he knew he very well may have made the same choice. What alternative would they have had, to keep their children safe during a war? A deep realm? Laslow wanted nothing to do with that. He had seen children of the war raised in the deep realms. He had seen them grow to be older than some of their parents. It wasn’t fair to anyone.

“I love you very much, Laslow.” Xander eventually spoke up. “You do not deserve to have faced a fourth war in your life.”

Laslow knew that was true. There was no reason he should have had to endure that. He was too young to have seen as much war as he had, and yet… he still found his heart was heavy.

“You didn’t deserve to face it alone.” He murmured in response.

 

…

 

Two years. Laslow learned that day that the war Xander fought without him took place in the deep realms. Two years passed for Xander, every day fighting for his life and for peace, while Laslow spent his days having tea with his mother and playing with his children. It was far from fair.

When they returned to Nohr Laslow found that Windmire was being rebuilt. It was a slow and steady effort… but Castle Krakenburg would likely take a decade or longer to repair. Of course there were other castles in Nohr, other places for the royal family to live. They were by no means homeless.

Laslow thought the most surprising thing was the warm reception he received from not only his friends, but the people of Nohr. He supposed it was no surprise that they had missed the heirs to their throne, because the celebrations of their return were massive.

Peri was alive. Laslow’s relief upon seeing her manifested in tears and he hugged her tight and _thanked her_ , because he knew she undoubtedly played a huge role in keeping Xander safe while Laslow could not.

Two years had passed for Xander but he seemed to fall back into the routine of being a father seamlessly. Laslow did not think his children knew that it had been two years, for him. He didn’t think they would ever know. Xander still lifted them on his shoulders, still blew surprise raspberries to their bellies. However, one thing did change.

The nights after they returned to Nohr Siegbert came into their room to ask to sleep with them in their bed. Laslow had braced himself for the process of building “independence.” Instead of that, Xander lifted up the covers and hoisted Siegbert up to join them. The sound of Soleil running down the hall to see why Siegbert was awake, and the weight of her climbing into the bed herself as well… they were familiar.

They fell asleep quickly. Laslow could not. He kept his eyes on his king, admired his gorgeous hair and his peaceful smile while he kept his arm draped protectively over his son. He whispered to him (unsure really if he was even awake) “Milord and king, the big softie of Nohr.”

Xander opened only one eye (the other was nearly covered by his pillows anyway, as he was laying on his side) and his lips curled up into a smirk. “I believe it was you who once said there will come a time when they no longer desire to be held. I think it best to make the most of the time we have. Don’t you?”

“Mm, why yes, I do believe I did say that.” Laslow hummed softly. Xander closed his eye and seemed to be falling asleep. Laslow reached out (over his snoring princess, of course) and brushed his fingers past the king’s jaw. “Xander…”

“Mhmm?”

Laslow chuckled. The sleepy noise was a far cry from the professional man he knew and loved. “Make me a promise. Never send me away again. Perhaps you are stronger than I, but… I require both that you draw breath, _and also_ your company.”

“Laslow,” Xander’s voice was sleepy but also clearly an attempt at firm. It was not firm. Laslow thought it was somewhat amusing.

For once in his life, Laslow thought it best to ignore a stern voice. “I’ve vowed to serve you, vowed to protect you, and even vowed to love you. Come what may, Xander, promise me that in the future we will face it _together_.”

The king sighed heavy and long but he nodded his head. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy I'm finally done with Xanlow Week. 
> 
> I'm sorry this was lackluster I kind of got busy with some other stuff here at the end. But the good news is that Xanlow Week provided us with a lot of content!
> 
> Expect an update for My Kingdom Come sometime next week :D Thank you for everyone who participated! ALSO huge thank you to @transientvision for co-hosting!! Also guys THEY JUST UPDATED THEIR BIG XANLOW FIC it is called "Seems Like Years Since It's Been Clear" go read it RIGHT NOW it's incredible.


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